Falling in love with Tokyo

There's something in the clean streets, calm people, and orchestrated bustle of Tokyo that makes a couple of wanderlusting girlfriends want to shred their passports and live there.

 

The more I travel, the more shamelessly careless I become about being a total tourist.

Highly recommend this guesthouse and it's location of Asakusa.

Sake. But not the mild, tasty stuff we're used to in the states. None of the sake I tasted could have been much more flavorful than moonshine. And it was STRONG. 

 

Oh, just a koi that's bigger than my dog.

 

Entering Shinjuku Temple

 

The Japanese aren't big on sweet desserts, but their bite-sized cookies are an exception. 

 

Story of Japanese transportation's life:

 

Typical breakfast

  

Menu for a restaurant... not sure who would try it or why, but I love that they wanted to make sure no one brought in their own food.

 

Origami! I was so impressed with that ring.

 

Calligraphy

 

Grinding wasabi with shark skin.

 

Common Japanese broths

 

Sushi!!!

 

 

The subways weren't entirely foreigner-friendly. But luckily, Japan is filled with the most amazing people you could ever hope to meet, and they went above and beyond to help us on multiple occasions.

 

Sumo wrestling seats were sold out. :( But we creeped the premises until we got this photo op!

 

Yep. Caught an act at the Kabuki theater!

 

Shibuya

Nothing but open arms

Imagine, if you will, someone on social media making a definitive statement about a person they'd only ever heard of, but never sought to know---a celebrity, or a friend of a friend, say. It's not too far-fetched a scenario; we form opinions like they're going out of style. The guilty party would quickly be smacked with the label of "judgmental" and, depending on the severity of the verdict, their "friends" would either write them off or sentence them to unliked Facebook content for three consecutive, earth-shattering days.

Makes sense in our culture. And yet, people who haven't sought to acquaint themselves with God somehow seem confident in their opinion of who he is.

There are rampant misconceptions about who God is. Not coincidentally, such views are commonly held by people who have declined knowing him. They say he's an authoritarian; and yet, we are inundated with free will (if in doubt, just turn on the news). They say he represents condemnation, but active-Christians report being overwhelmed with the antithesis of condemnation, which is grace (there is TONS of it). So who and what is this person that both believers and non-believers alike have such different versions of but both claim to know?

I can assure you that anyone who thinks God isn't worth knowing has never known him.

(Who he is = worth knowing.)

I can only imagine how someone who isn't a believer could read what I'm saying and interpret my confidence as insanity. Not only is my mind quite sound, but it often visits places that are painfully realistic.

The world is a beautiful place, full of wonder and possibilities, as my Instagram account strives to resonate in some way. It's my favorite aspect of life to place my magnifying glass. And yet, if we peek just under life's surface, there's a whole reality I think people across cultures and throughout the planet strive to avoid, deny, or forget.

If life were an epic iceberg that we were all forced to live on (permission to create your own explanation of that scenario granted), many of its inhabitants are standing on the 15% above the water, eager to allow their own thoughts, devices, and surrounding beauty to distract them from the potentially sobering mystery of the 85% that lies beneath their feet.
What lies beneath?

Pain. Insecurity. Injustice. Weakness. Unforgiveness. Fear. Guilt. Loneliness. Doubt.  

Photo cred: Pinterest

As someone who battles anxiety "by default," as I say, I don't know how the 15-percenters do it. Because while they seem to be holding their own far better than I used to or could now, I don't know that they really are doing it. They're trying to focus on the good---the joys of life, the ins and outs of the everyday. Life moves pretty fast in a world that can be a captivating place, so distractions are fairly easy to come by. These focus points mean different things to different people: the joy their children bring them; the promise of fun-filled weekends; and less innocent avenues that suggest more desperation, such as substance abuse.

The subconscious belief, I think, is that the joys and beauty of life on this earth are powerful enough to overcome the reality of all the ick that I mentioned before---the ick that evades no one, and merely comes with being human.

The "misperception" I mentioned at the beginning of this blog refers to the belief that anything we face in life without God, however we may resort to dealing with it---whatever we need to do, take, or tell ourselves as we lie in bed waiting to fall asleep at night---is better than simply trying faith.

Why?

In many cases, we think the part of the iceberg underneath the water is condemnation. People live and die trying to forget the horrible mysteriousness of what lurks beneath the surface of the day-to-day, without ever realizing that with God, it doesn't need to be horrible at all. Without God... well, I wouldn't blame you for avoiding every part of it. Underneath the water's gentle, blue waves of friends and family and Instagrams that convince ourselves and others of a perfect life, there are killer whales. There are leopard seals---you know, those seals that look cuddly with their mouths closed, but have teeth like tigers and are backed by pure muscle? Yeah those. And to crescendo my point, please Google "blackdragon fish" now. I trust my point is made, and neither of us will add "scuba-dive in Antarctica" to our bucket list any time soon.

It's not all pretty. But God sees all of it, and accepts us as we are. He says it doesn't define us. And he promises we don't have to face any of it alone.

(What he is = Unconditional acceptance. Limitless amounts of forgiveness. Guaranteed security. Unmerited favor. = Grace.)

Forget what you think you know about God. You're not perfect; none of us are. But we don't mind calling out our imperfections because we understand that they're no reflection of our worth---they don't define us.

He's crazy about you. He would die a painful death just to know you (and actually, he has). And he's nothing but open arms.

The warmest, fuzziest kind of torment

"FEELINGS ARE LIKE WAVES: WE CAN'T STOP THEM FROM COMING, 
BUT WE CAN CHOOSE WHICH ONES TO SURF."
- UNKNOWN

Little known fact: I work part-time as a barista for a juice and coffee bar in Malibu.

One morning for my break I took a table on the patio. It was the one where, if you can spot it fading into the sky and hiding between the condos, you can see the ocean. At the table not far from me were two Malibuites having their coffee. Being the nosy (although I prefer “curious,” “observant,” or “perceptive”) person that I am, I couldn’t help but devote a certain amount of my periphery to the situation.

“The good news is,” the woman stated definitively to the man behind the latest copy of the The Malibu Times, “is that I’m in a good mood today.”

Well isn’t that a peculiar thing to say, I thought to myself as I innocently and intently broke off another chunk of my larabar. (Then again, Malibuites are affectionately--but notoriously--peculiar.) She may as well have said that the weather was forecast to be lovely, or that the Dow Jones was up 100 points. The psychology major in me wanted to refer her to a cognitive-behavioral therapist before she could even take her next sip. Doesn’t she know that our feelings follow our thoughts--that daily life in general is what we make of it?

The interesting thing was, I was currently working to identify my own feelings about a particular situation that had recently found its way into my life. In general, I like to think I don’t give much weight to feelings; and yet, it was gnawing at me that I couldn’t pin them down. Was I happy? Was I sad? Some kind of ambivalent hybrid? I mean, I’m not like a leaf tossed on a sea of emotions or anything; I’m certainly not going to report them like a newscast that need affect my life. But I can justify running my thoughts in circles in an attempt to identify them... right?

Why, oh why do we torment ourselves?!

Why do we grant weight to things that change like the tide but are less predictable? Even as someone who has proudly and consciously acknowledged feelings to be the dastardly fickle things that they are still finds herself clinging to the idea that they possess significance--why else is it so crucial that I identify them?--and that this “significance” grants us the power to dictate whether we’re happy or sad, whether we’re content or miserable, and, indirectly but ultimately, allow it to steer the path that we call life.

What I think we must always consider is that societies ingrain in us the importance of certain things, and a favorite for Western culture is feelings. Well-meaning, ambiguous sayings such as “follow your heart!” reinforce the notion that ever-changing emotions somehow have the ability to lead us to the right place. We sometimes treat them almost as if they’re divine, when really they’re equivalent to putting a blindfold over your eyes, a leash on your dog, and telling Sparky to lead the way. The comparison is almost offensive to us, isn’t it? Which only serves to prove my point.

The problem I have with feelings is that how we feel sometimes conflicts with what’s right--and wins. If nothing else, giving deference to our feelings puts them in a position of influence over how we experience life. Emotions are very much a part of being human, and while they can positively contribute to the ride, my break that day was a reminder to re-evaluate the amount of power and credit that they’re due.

A memorable excursion

This is the week some girlfriends and I hopped on a bus to go see some ruins with a tour guide who had memorized four hours worth of English but thought every question we asked was about potatoes. And because no trip is complete without it, I once again managed to separate from the group and lose track of time, only to find a bus filled with very hostile people waiting for us upon our eventual return. They chastised us in spanish, and although I didn't get all of it, I'm pretty sure one tourist from Spain said "You're making me late for being solicited to by locals selling llama keychains! I NEED MORE LLAMA KEYCHAINS!!" (Not really.) I wanted to say "No hablo espanol," but as it turns out, such options are limited in the first 30 seconds after pronouncing "Yo entiendo espanol." There was color, there were snowcapped mountains, there was that time our bus yielded to a Toyota Yaris and almost backed over a cliff doing it, and there was sodium in its most breathtaking form. There was also a hike no one was psychologically prepared for, and that really disappointing moment when I realized that a Peruvian had lied to me again---raw plantains were not delicious fruits, but horribly strange and disappointing banana-looking things. 

All in all, a memorable excursion!

 

They spin the yarn from wool and then dye it using natural things. 

 

Demonstrating how they made the natural dyes. Very cool and impressive!

 

From up here, those steps looked like fun, easy hops. In reality, they were leg-stretching muscle-builders.

We were determined to make it all the way to the bottom!

Salinas de Maras---Salt flats.

Week 5: Lake Titicaca

Being busy and not having wifi for the last half of my time in Peru made it nearly impossible to share the weeks as they passed. But as always, late is better than never!

The highlight of my fifth week was a weekend visit to Lake Titicaca. It was a chilly, beautiful, exhausting, relaxing, totally touristy, and yet somehow-still-authentic experience.

But first, some cheese.

...and the last meal with my host family before I left them to spend the remainder of my stay in the school's dorms.

Ok, back to Titicaca.

We arrived to Puno just in time for an early breakfast and the sunrise over the lake.

Photo opportunities like this...are why I travel.

All in all, we spent eight hours on our little boat. The roof had the views and the breeze; the deck had the cushions and the warmth; the inside had the ability to rock you to sleep to the sound of the World Cup.

The floating island of Uros! Quite an impressive lifestyle of innovation: they floated on, made their houses with, traveled by, made toys from, and ate, reeds.

My room on Amantani, an island with not much to do but dance, hike, keep warm, and watch the sunset over the lake and the nearby snow-capped mountains of Bolivia.

From where I sat at my host's kitchen table.

I'm almost positive that I ate more rice and potatoes during my time in Peru than I did in the last 2-3 years.

Venders set up for tourists waiting to watch the sunset over the lake.

I kind of wandered away from the group and almost spent the night roaming the hills of an island with nothing but seemingly identical houses and fields on a winter's night. But wondering if I was going to later be featured on "I Shouldn't Be Alive" was totally worth the moon, silhouettes of backpackers, and last rays of sunlight that were captured in this shot.

Waiting to dance with the locals!

Week 6, comin' soon. :)

Week 4: The difference

Well the halfway mark is here! I won't lie, one month would have been enough---but just like how getting on the plane was the difference between talking and doing, staying the extra length is the difference between being a familiar tourist and being successfully and truly immersed in the culture. Even if it wasn't rewarding, it's all going by so fast anyway.

This past week was filled with experiencing famous local traditions, my first (and overdue) tastes of nightlife, and realizing I've already bought so many things that I'm going to have to leave most of my clothes here and arrive in the States wearing a wool poncho. Most importantly, however, is that I've officially finished my Spanish courses and can move on to the service work I've been anticipating! More deets on that---and other changes---next week. 

Visited Qorikancha. Also known as Temple of the Sun, the building was dedicated to "Inti," the "Sun God," and was formerly the most important temple of the Incas. It now houses Catholic art and artifacts, as well as some relics of Incan masonry.

Street vendors have been especially abundant in this festive month of local celebrations.

Best. brownie. of my entire. life.

Thanks to my wonderful friend Regaine for this wonderful shot!

I was lucky to have gotten this frame of the star of the show during the street procession for the city's grandest celebration of the year, Inti Raymi.

I'm sad to say that children here over the age of about two seem consistently untrusting and sad. Unless, of course, they're manning shops or working as venders in the street---which some do till way past my bedtime. Not surprisingly, being accosted by an 8-year-old is not something I find easy to react to.

Our ascent to Sacsaywaman for Inti Raymi took us through parts of Cusco that I had previously only seen as itty bitty houses and streets while sipping my tea in the morning, and flickering little lights on hilltops at night. I appreciated this intimate glimpse of a different part of local life.

Cusco's Cristo Blanco

Entertaining myself by documenting a piece of the ridiculous crowd during the slow-going ceremonial reenactment of Inti Raymi, celebration of the Winter Solstice through offering sacrifices to Inti (mentioned before).

Resting our calves from all the hill-climbing and tip-toe standing we were doing during the ceremony!

Hasta la proxima vez! :)